He rushes in, grabbing Nate’s other arm.Connor and Jay haul him up while I clear the path ahead, pushing through the crowd.
People stare, whispering, parting like we’re dragging death itself through the room.Outside, the air is warm and when I look back and Nate’s head rolls back, and for a horrifying moment, I think he’s stopped breathing again.
We get him into the backseat of Connor’s car, I climb in beside him, cradling his head in my lap, my hands trembling so badly I can barely keep still.
“Nate, what have you done,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.His skin is cold, slick with sweat.“Not like this… please, not like this.”
Then it dawns on me, tomorrow is Jake’s funeral.The thought rips through me like glass.
Connor drives fast but steady, glancing back in the mirror every few seconds.Jay’s in the passenger seat, silent, jaw clenched.
When we reach Connor’s house, everything feels surreal—the sleek walls, the spotless floors, the warm lights that don’t belong to a night like this.
“Go grab some clothes from my wardrobe,” Connor says, steering Nate toward the bathroom with Jay’s help.“We need to clean him up.”
I move on autopilot—find sweatpants, a t-shirt—and return to find Connor kneeling beside Nate, helping him out of the shower.
Together, Jay and I dress Nate and settle him in the guest room.His breathing is still shallow, but more even now.Some color has returned to his face.I tuck the blanket around him, smoothing his damp hair back.
Connor nods once.“I’ll grab some water and tablets for him.So he can take them as soon as he wakes up.”
When he leaves, I follow him downstairs.
The kitchen looks like something from a magazine—cold granite and glass.Connor’s pulling open cupboards, and for a second, he looks human in just jeans and a hoodie.Younger and softer even.
“He’s in a bad way,” he says quietly.
“I know.”My voice cracks.
He hands me a bottle of water.
“You can stay here tonight.All of you.It’s just me here anyway.”
“Oh, we’ll be gone early,” I murmur.“Tomorrow’s?—”
“The funeral,” he finishes for me.
I nod, staring at the counter.“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get him there.”
“I can give you a lift wherever you need in the morning,” he says simply.“But to be honest, I don’t think he’ll be in any shape to go.”
The word slips out before I can stop it.“Fuck.”
The weight of it all hits me at once.Jake’s gone.Nate almost followed.I’m standing in Connor James’ kitchen, the same boy who once hurt me, who’s now the reason Nate’s still breathing.
“Why’d you help us tonight?”I ask.
He’s quiet for a long moment while his fingers tap the counter.
“Because seeing you try to drag a guy three times your size out of a warehouse would have been painful to watch.”
I huff a dry laugh, but he doesn’t smile instead, his eyes are distant.
“I have a little sister,” he says out of nowhere.“Well… had.”
My breath catches.
“She was in the UK at boarding school.Last year, some guy…” He swallows hard, eyes glistening.“He hurt her.Badly.So badly she couldn’t live with it.”
